Ascending
by t.s. thrace
Summary: In the years before the sky people fell to the earth, Lexa ascended. Before she was Commander, she was an uncanny child who experienced the world deeply, beautifully, painfully. She was a nightblood whose path was made for her. She had no choice. She became who they trained her to be, but she held on to those rich and beautiful parts of herself, even if she had to bury them.
1. Not Heda Yet

Author's Note: Trigedasleng in italics, translations can be found at trigedasleng dot info

* * *

Every inch of her hurt. The crushed fingers on her left hand. The shallow but dirty cuts across her shoulder blade, down her forearm. The skinned knees and scraped palms. The deep ache in her legs reminding her that she had fought hard for what had felt like a long time. Days. Years. But it had only been hours. From one opponent to another. From one brother, one sister, one _lukot_ , to another. They were gone. She was all that was left.

It was the way of her people.

A wave of warmth washed over her bare back. One of the devoted, a _wichen_ , stood over her as she lied face down on a long table. The _wichen_ had placed a folded blanket under her head. "Rest," she had said. "This is just the start. Rest every moment you can." The girl opened her eyes and strained to look up at the _wichen_ , who smiled gently. Not a _wichen_ smile—the devoted weren't known for their kindness or their harshness. They simply were. Measured, quiet, usually on the edges of a space. Silent but never invisible. And yet here was a smile, motherly, full of concern and pride.

"Lay your head down, _Heda_ ," the _wichen_ said quietly as she washed the girl's back with a warm cloth.

"I'm not _Heda_ yet," the girl said quietly.

The _wichen_ ignored her. "Rest. Your days will be hard. Long. You must know how to rest. To quiet your mind and remember who you were before this day."

 _Before this day._ The girl rested her head on the blanket, closing her eyes and biting her bottom lip instinctively. ( _You must not do that_ , Titus had said, _they'll see your doubt and know your weakness. They will be watching you always.)_ There had been nothing before this day. Just stories about this day. Training for this day. Preparing for this day. The girl heard grief in the _wichen_ 's voice. Of course the devoted knew this. They trained the _natblida_ in the rituals of The Flame, and they tended to their wounds after their training. The _wichen_ saw everything, watched silently, faithfully.

"What is your name, _wichen_?" the girl asked.

" _Heda_ , you know that we let our names go when we walk through the _faya_."

"I am your Commander." The girl was surprised by the strength and weight in her voice. She had been trained to hold her voice steady, to articulate her words with brutal clarity, but she had never actually used her training. The _wichen_ stopped washing her back and stiffened. The girl bit her lip again, felt tears pushing at the sides of her eyes. She counted her breaths until she was sure they would stay back. "What _was_ your name?" she asked gently.

The _wichen_ fell quiet, her face returning to that trained stillness. She dipped the cloth back into the bowl of steaming water and wrung out the excess. She took a deep breath in, held it, and then let it go in a long breath out. Her face loosened into a sad smile as she softly stroked the broken skin around the cut on the girl's back. "I was called Inna."

"Inna," the girl repeated slowly, letting the _wichen_ 's presence wrap around the name as she said it. She strained again to look into Inna's eyes. "I was called Lexa."

Inna continued to wash the wound. "But _Heda_ , you are still called Lexa."

"You know that no one will call me that anymore. Not after I receive The Flame." Lexa put her head back onto the blanket and said quietly, "You don't call me that anymore." She couldn't count breaths anymore. The tears pushed through in a torrent, dripped off her nose and onto the blanket. Her body heaved with every sob, and every sob seemed to open her cuts and scrapes even wider. She welcomed the pain, let it fill every part of her. Inna was gone. The blanket was gone. The table was gone. All that was left was this day, shrouded in the white blindness of this pain. Mosha was gone. Emul was gone. Luna was gone. All that was left was this day, that had gone exactly how it had always gone. How it was supposed to go. The Commander chose Lexa. All that was left was this day. And her.

* * *

Inna lifted the girl into her arms and held her as she shook and shuddered. She's so small, the _wichen_ thought. So young. Other children her age were learning to sharpen tools, to gather roots and hunt for food, and, yes, to fight. Eventually. But this girl was already deadly, had already killed with skill that left the veteran warriors in the crowd holding their breath. She would not need to command respect, even as a girl not yet full-grown. Her performance in the conclave had left no doubt who the Commander had chosen, who would lead them next. She would only grow stronger, wiser, harder with all the memories of past commanders handed down to her.

But for now, she was a small girl, covered in battle wounds, who had lost everything.

The girl's breath slowed, her heaving body stilled. The _wichen_ recognized the shift in the girl when it happened, the walling off that she herself had been so carefully trained to do like a wave across the body that leaves everything placid, at least on the surface.

Inna took the girl's hand and took a breath to the very bottom of her stomach. The breath that dismantled her own wall. "Lexa. You don't have to do that. Not yet." The girl looked up at the _wichen_ without lifting her head and pulled her hand away. Her body stiffened, and she lied back down on the table, face down.

"Thank you, _wichen_ ," Lexa said without a hint of feeling. "You can finish now."

* * *

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	2. Little Natblida

It was a day of knees. Everyday was a day of knees, but today there were many more knees than usual. Knees covered in thick robes, in faded black leather, in loose cloth. She touched them all, each with their scratch, itch, and smooth. One set of knees had tiny bones stacked one on top another like a ladder, and when she looked up she saw that the ladder disappeared under a heavy jacket into darkness. She touched one of the bones and tugged at it cautiously, glancing up at her _nomi_ , waiting for a raised eyebrow or a sharp glance, but her mother was lost in the cloud of conversation above. The girl ran her hands down the line of bones. She tapped on each one, up then down. Then she tapped harder. Sometimes bones make music, but these ones didn't. When she was done tapping, she began to pull again, concentrating all her effort. When she suddenly fell backwards, thumping onto her rear, the cloud above her silenced.

"Lexa!" she heard her _nomi_ say sharply. Lexa looked up and saw that the bone dangled from one side, held to the pants by a bit of thread. She smiled and glanced at her mother who continued to scold her, but Lexa could see the grin hiding in her eyes. But then air between them was suddenly heavy and slow, and a pang sluiced though Lexa's chest, catching her breath. She looked back at her mother, and knew those eyes hid something sad, too. Her _nomi_ held her gaze, and the little girl cocked her head, confused.

"It's okay," a deep voice broke through the thickness from further up. A tall man in the scratchy robe looked down at Lexa and then over at the man in the bone pants. "Are you alright, Tux?" Tux was even taller, pale with a huge face with lines of scars down one cheek. He looked down at the girl and smiled in a way that made Lexa step back and squint. "Easy fix," he said in a voice that sounded like nails were dropped in his throat. The man in the robe kneeled down and faced Lexa. He smelled to her of spices. Not like sweat and leather. Not like her _nomi_. Not like a warrior.

"Hello, little _natblida_ ," he said softly. Lexa tilted her head sideways and looked intently at the man. He had no hair on his head, and there were pictures drawn in circles all around his bare skin like a cap. She reached up to touch them, but she was too short. The man laughed, and his laugh felt warm to her. Something in her chest loosened at the sound of it. He bent his head down and let her touch the tattoos. "The story of the commanders, little _natblida_ ," he explained. "Of our people."

Lexa ran her hand over the pictures, expecting to feel the lines, but it was all just skin. She looked at his eyes. Deep green fading into gray around the pupils. "What's your name?" she asked. She saw the crowd of people all look at each other, like they expected her to sound different.

"I am called Titus," he said, still smiling, but serious. "I am the _Fleimkepa_." She glanced up at her _nomi_ , who slowly nodded her head, the sadness still heavy in her eyes. _Why is she so sad?_ Then she looked at the many other faces above her. Some wearing black and bones and metal. Warriors. Others in the more common spun wool, like she wore. A few others standing silently against the wall in robes like the man with the tattoo cap. They had hoods drawn over their faces, but when Lexa looked at them, she felt the pressure in her chest again. _They're sad, too._ When she looked at the others, though, the air around her seemed to open. One warrior tilted his head, his eyes glinting with anticipation. Another strong-looking woman, skin the color of fertile soil and drawings on her face, almost–almost–seemed to be smiling, like she knew the sun was about to come out from behind the clouds.

She felt the skin beneath her tunic grow stiff with goosebumps and heat, like everyone around her was holding their breath. Her chest swirled with confusion, so simply asked, "are you waiting for something?" The room broke open in grins. Titus, still on his knees, laughed that warm laugh again, and even her _nomi_ smiled in her sad way.

"We've been waiting for you!" Titus told her.

"For me?" she asked. "But I'm so little."

Titus lightly placed his hand on her tiny shoulder. "For you, yes, little _natblida_."

"What's _natblida_?" she asked, and Titus looked swiftly, like an arrow loosed, at her mother, making Lexa shiver. Titus felt her shake, and he turned back to her. The warmth returned.

"Lexa, you are special. Did no one tell you that?"

She ran through her memories, tilting her head, until she could only think of one thing. " _Nomi_ asks me to be careful, so I don't get hurt. And she doesn't like me to see when other people get hurt."

Titus nodded slowly. "Lexa, your blood is special. It's different than most people's blood. It gives you great gifts." He pulled out a small knife. "I'm going to poke you. It's going to hurt a bit, but I'm going to poke me, too, so you're not alone." He held out his hand, asking for hers. Lexa looked at her _nomi_ who once again nodded slowly. She gave Titus her hand and closed her eyes. She felt the skin break on the palm of her hand and winced, but then it was done before she could cry out or be afraid. The knife was sharp, and the pain was quick. When she opened her eyes, she saw her own blood spill in a small string over the side of her hand. Everyone in the room gave each other glances. Lexa felt irritated, like they were keeping a secret from her.

"My turn now, okay?" Titus looked at her. Lexa nodded. He brought the tip of the knife first to his own hand, breaking the skin right in the meaty part of his had below his thumb. A small string of red blood spilled over the edge of his hand. She stepped back a few steps and sucked in her breath. "Your blood is different. It's red."

"Tux, come here," Titus said in a commanding voice. "Give me your hand." Tux held out his hand, and Titus swiftly punctured it. His blood flowed red. "Indra, give me your hand." The strong woman's blood flowed red. Then Titus looked at Lexa's mother, saying sternly, "Acco." She looked at Lexa with eyes full of apology, and she gave Titus her hand. He nicked her palm as he had the others, and Lexa watched as her mother bled red.

"Why is mine black?" she asked, looking at her _nomi_. The room thickened with silence until her mother drew in a deep breath and sighed, "Lexa…"

Titus looked down as he waited for her to say more, but the silence grew. Finally, he said, "Lexa, you have night blood. The blood of the Commanders. It's very special. Very rare. There aren't many like you."

Lexa looked at her mother. " _Nomi_ , I don't understand."

Her mother gathered herself in a breath. "It means you could be the next Commander, child. With a lot of hard work." This didn't mean anything to Lexa, except that she imagined carrying buckets of water from the stream like she did every morning to prepare for the day, except she imagined many more buckets than usual. She didn't know what that had to do with being a Commander.

"It means you have other brothers and sisters like you," Titus continued. "You will build each other up, make each other stronger so that one of you can become a strong Commander." Lexa thought about this for a moment. She had had a little brother, Cameron, but he died before she knew him. _Nomi_ sometimes sang to him when she didn't know Lexa could hear.

"They're like me?" she asked.

" _Natblida_ , yes." Titus answered.

Her mother opened her mouth to say more, but then closed it slowly along with her eyes. Lexa looked away from her mother and around the room, her eyes jumping from person to person. She felt warm as she soaked in their faces. The sincere hope in in the eyes of Titus and the strong woman, the skepticism radiating from Tux, the strange sadness spreading from the robes on the edge of the room amplifying her _nomi_ 's. She felt them all tearing her into different directions, but she didn't understand. She wanted to put her hands over her ears and close her eyes, but she knew she'd still feel them. She always did. So instead she she played a game her _nomi_ taught her when things became too much. She took a deep breath as she said to herself, "one is for the _deimeika_ , that gives us light." As she exhaled slowly, she lifted her hands to the sky and stretched up to her tiptoes. She took another breath. "Two is for these ears that can hear the morning birds." She rested her hands gently against her ears. She took another deep breath. "Three is for _nomi_ , Cam, and me." She wrapped her arms around herself, and felt her heart slow.

She opened her eyes. The warriors looked down at the ground, and the robes remained silent. Her mother was sobbing. She looked desperately at Titus whose face was soft and grave. He nodded his head, almost imperceptibly-it was his eyes that gave permission. Her mother bent down and opened her arms, and Lexa instinctively ran to her. She felt the roll of her mother's sobs, smelled the familiar sweat tinged with lavender and leather. The other parents in the village had always shook their head at her mother's warmth towards her child. _This world is cold and hard_ , they had said, _you love her by teaching her to endure_. She would always nod politely, and she had even given Lexa a small sword and a little training though she was so small, but she never stopped hugging her.

When the rise and fall of her mother's chest gradually evened, she took Lexa gently by her shoulders. "You're going to leave with Titus," she said, looking Lexa straight in the eyes. _Her eyes are brown_ , Lexa thought, _but why are they so gray now?_ "He's going to take you to live in Polis to be with the other _natblida_. Lexa, I need you to be brave and strong."

Finally, Lexa understood. She stroked a braid hanging down from her mother's black hair. "You won't be coming with me." It wasn't a question. The strong and steady pounding in her chest told her that she would never see her mother again, that she wasn't meant to. She didn't know why she said, "You'll be safe here, _nomi_. Without me." But when she said it, she knew it was true. Her own sadness would not come for a long time.

* * *

"I thought about hiding her." Acco stood with Titus as they drank warm spiced milk. "No one knew. No one had to know."

"No parent wants a _natblida_ , unless they want glory for themselves." Titus said evenly. "No parent wants to lose their child. I'd be more concerned if you weren't upset. Concerned for the child we were getting." Acco nodded, feeling the heaviness below her eyes from all the crying. "We say 'Get knocked down, get up again,' but sometimes I think we focus too much on the knocking down." Titus turned to face Acco. "Lexa already knows what it means to get up again. I can see it in her. You taught her."

Acco sighed. "She just learned. This world teaches her."

"No, Acco. This world teaches us to knock down, knock down, knock down. Harder, harder, harder." He spat the words. "Too many Commanders…" his voice trailed off. He paused, looked out at nothing, took a slow sip.

"She's so young."Acco looked down at the cup in her hands. "Such a small child."

"You were right to send for us. You know the punishment if we found her."

Acco nodded slowly. "It seemed worth the risk. For awhile. Especially after Cameron…"

"Was he a _natblida_?" he asked gently.

Acco shook her head, still looking down at her hands. "I don't know where Lexa got it. Maybe somewhere in the _nontu_ 's blood. He was just a donor, so I didn't really know him. Left when the job was done."

"We don't really understand it, the blood," Titus said. "It doesn't get passed down like sharp noses or bad hearts. It just comes out of nowhere. I wonder how many we miss."

"Many, I hope." Acco gave Titus a hollow smile.

"Why _did_ you send for me?" Titus asked, a sharp line running down his forehead.

"I don't know. I'm _Trikru_. I know the stories of The Flame. My _noni_ taught me about duty." She looked up at him. "He wasn't just a donor. He was always around. He was a healer, you know?"

Titus shook his head. He wouldn't have heard of a small village healer.

"Lexa reminds me of him. Every day."

Titus took a deep breath and looked out into the trees. The dusk sky shone golden orange through their branches. He knew better than to ever apologize. It was his duty to find and build up _natblida_ , and it was sacred. But it was hard, and he wished through all these years that he had found something to say to people like Acco. Something that acknowledged how much they were losing. His duty was sacred, yes, and he told them theirs was, too, but his did not require such sacrifice.

* * *

Lexa had always preferred trees to people. They were quiet. They hid all sorts of surprises like bugs that glowed bright blue or mice families or baby birds. They let her hide. There was a peace to trees that gave her peace. When _nomi_ was training and the other children played games that were too loud or too rough, she turned to the trees. They were everywhere. Her village was built under a canopy of oaks and beeches. She knew that cooler weather was on its way when they she heard the ringing of nuts falling on their metal roof. She could smell the brilliant green of newborn leaves in the spring. She could feel their roots beneath her feet, and they steadied her somehow, pulled her to the earth. Even when she climbed, she felt anchored, sure-footed.

Titus noticed her looking up into the leaves as they rode away from her village. Like she was saying goodbye. Such a quiet child. Lexa seemed to speak from her eyes more often than with her words. When she parted with her mother, she looked at her for a long time before wandering slowly into a long hug. Lexa dug her face into her _nomi_ 's neck and touched her hair, like she didn't want to forget the smell, the texture. It was only when she closed her eyes, though, that Titus recognized a spark of grief. Acco didn't cry, was out of tears perhaps, for her last _yongon_ who would not come home. It wouldn't be home anymore, even if she did come back.

As they rode, Lexa only felt a low, slow burning in her core. The hope and anticipation she saw in the warriors' eyes, her _nomi_ 's sadness that finally turned to ash, the tall man Titus with his confusing warmth. She felt it all knotted and burning underneath her ribs. So she looked at the trees. At least they would always be everywhere, taking nothing from her.

* * *

 _ **I am so grateful that you took time to read my story! Please follow/fav if you like what you read, and leave a comment with your thoughts! I'm open to all sorts of feedback.**_

 _ **Trigedasleng in italics. Translations can be found at trigedasleng dot info.**_


	3. The Flame

She had never felt anything so soft as the the simple sleeveless black dress the _wichen_ had wrapped around her after her purification. She took it between her thumb and fingers, felt both comforted and confused. It wasn't silk. Too thick. It had weight, its gravity pulling in the dancing candlelight around her and letting none of it out. She took a few steps, and the fabric flowed around her like a stream around rocks, effortless. It brushed against the tiny hairs on her back, danced cautiously over the freshly tended wounds, sending a rich shiver through her. She felt warm and conspicuous. She was sure no one else in the capital, perhaps even in all the clans, had anything like it. With every tiny movement, she could feel the dress telling her who she is. She felt power brewing in her blood, sending goosebumps down her arms.

Another _wichen_ walked in carrying a small package. "Please sit, _Heda_. It's time for your paint."

Lexa tightened her lips, decided not to tell him that she wasn't _Heda_ yet. It didn't matter. She would be soon. She sat and closed her eyes as the _wichen_ went to work.

The paint was not the same stuff her _amin_ had slathered over her eyes before battle, ash and oil and blood and dirt rough on her skin. This was a cream, soft like the goats butter she churned on farm detail. The _wichen_ used a small, delicate brush to darken her eyes, draw the black lines of _Trikru_ across her face. Lexa had her own markings for battle, but she was sure these would be different. Everything seemed different.

The _wichen_ breathed steadily but heavily as he concentrated on the painting. His movements were sure, confident, practiced. He had been training for this day, just as she had. Everyone had. The _wichen_ tending to the sacred details, the _ouspika_ praying everyday and presiding over the rituals. Even the warriors practiced the Ascension formations weekly. They all had their parts to play this night. Lexa still had her own duties, but no amount of practice or recitation could have prepared her for them. Now she must trust The Flame.

She shuddered, and the _wichen_ pulled his brush away. No one told her anything about The Flame. No one could, not even Mazo who ascended before her. The wisdom was the Commander's alone. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The _wichen_ continued painting.

The brush's strokes calmed her. As she settled into the rhythm of the _wichen_ 's quiet breath, she felt the weariness of the conclave settling into her bones, a deep tired that filled her body like stones. Yet she felt empty. She took three deep breaths (one _for the_ deimeika _, two for her ears, shhhhh...not now_ ), and she brought her focus to her chest. But there was nothing but black blood pumping through a black heart, again and again and again and again. The rhythm flooded her ears, but still she felt nothing but the smooth fabric on her skin and the _wichen_ 's brush on her temple. She had never felt so silent inside.

It was probably for the best.

" _Heda_ , I'm done," she heard the _wichen_ say distantly. She sat up slowly, bringing herself back, opening her eyes. The _wichen_ held a small mirror up to her face. When she looked, she was reminded of her first battle, just two years ago. Anya, her mentor, her _amin_ , told her to look into a still pool on the creek they had camped by. When Lexa looked, she saw chaotic streams of black running down her face, running off a river of black across her eyes. _You're a warrior now_ , Anya had told her. But Lexa just felt like a little girl playing dress-up. She was trained, yes, and she was deadly. But she was 10. Other kids her age were also playing dress-up, dreaming of glory and killing _Azgeda_ soldiers. But Lexa was about to cross _Azgeda_ battle lines, a sword in each hand, playing dress-up. She was sure she was going to die.

But there was no chaos in what the _wichen_ painted for this, her Ascension Day, just precise lines across her eyes and temples, like a blindfold, except her green eyes shone out like stars, amplified by a sharp, thin line of silver in a streak just below. She looked like a beautiful, building storm. She looked away. _I just want to sleep._

"Lexa?" Titus' voice called from the other side of the tent flap. A question. A request. This was also new. Titus never asked, he ordered. _I'm not Heda yet_ , she said again silently. But she was too tired to argue with Titus. It wouldn't matter anyhow. "Everyone's here," he said, still outside. "They're ready. They wait for you."

 _I'm a child!_ she thought, knowing well that a child wouldn't have that thought. Was she ever a child? She took the mirror from the _wichen_ and looked again. Round cheeks and big eyes-bigger with the paint. She saw the child there under the rich garment and sharp lines across her face. She was small, even for a 12 year-old. Her head barely reached Titus' chest. But the Commander chose her. A child.

"Come in, Titus," Lexa said, feigning strength in her voice, as he had taught her. He appeared through the flap and nodded at the _wichen_ who left quietly.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She looked down at the dress, at her new wounds. _I'm a child playing dress-up._ She looked up at her teacher, the _Fleimkepa_ , and again she felt empty. She nodded. "I'm ready."

The trip to the top of the tower was slow. Lexa had always wondered how this tower had withstood _praimfaya_ when all the other tall buildings had collapsed or been incinerated. She wondered how the people before the bombs had lived. _Offices_ , she had heard one of the lorists say, where people each had their own table where they sat to work on machines that held more information than all the books in the world combined. These people tended the information at their tables. It didn't make sense to her. Her people had books, yes, and lorists to tend to them, but they didn't need a tower full of them. And sitting all day? How did these people survive? And why did they build such tall buildings? It took so long to walk up the 50 flights of stairs, and almost as long for the cart with its ropes and pulleys powered by strong men on the bottom floor. Lexa almost always took the stairs when she was summoned by the Commander, but she knew that wasn't an option on this night. She had been bathed by someone else, dressed by someone else, painted by someone else, and she would ride to the top floor on someone else's strength. The people would serve their Commander.

She stood with Titus as the cart edged them up the building, floor by floor. "You fought well today, Lexa," Titus broke the silence of their slow ride. Her turned to face her. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, teacher." Her voice was flat. She looked straight ahead, fighting the weariness in her limbs. She wanted water, sweet bread, anything to pull her through this weariness, but the purification called for fasting. There was nothing left in her but exhaustion.

Titus decided not to say anything else. There was nothing more he could do for her tonight. He knew that Lexa knew the words and motions of the ritual, and he trusted The Flame. The Commanders would guide her.

After a long silence, a sharp click indicated that they had reached the top floor. Two guards pulled the doors open. Lexa and Titus stepped out and moved quickly across a narrow hallway into the Commander's chamber. It was filled with night, save one torch at the entry, a small circle of light that they stepped into. Whoever was in the room could see them, but they couldn't see anyone. In that dark space, the weariness suddenly melted from Lexa's bones, and she could feel many eyes on her. She took a deep breath, then another, and brought all her awareness to her chest. She could almost see the shapes of people around her, each glowing with their own force. She felt hope and pride coming from them, fear, and from one corner of the room deep anger. She gathered their energy into her and threw back her shoulders. The fabric of her dress danced and settled around her. Then she slowly turned her head to look into the dark figures around the room. As her eyes focused, she could see their eyes.

* * *

Miah had been chief of _Louwoda Kliron Kru_ long enough to see three Commanders come and go, but none of them had been so small. They had all seemed like children in her eyes, but at least they had seemed of an age to fight, to drink their _sawajus_ without giggling or stumbling. But the girl who stepped into the light reminded the chief of her own daughter, Shenan, who had only just taken up the sword a month ago, and just a wooden one. Shenan was probably in bed right now, wondering when her _nomi_ would come home. She had probably asked for an extra honey sweet after dinner. She always did. Miah looked in the light and for an instant she saw Shenan with her wooden sword and sticky hands. The chief felt her heart clench. _Stop this!_ she wanted to shout. But then she felt the child's eyes on her, prying into her. The chief could feel the girl's gravity slowing everything around her. _Maybe the_ natblida _really are different, special,_ Miah thought. The girl's gaze passed, and the chief sighed silently.

* * *

Titus grabbed the single torch. "Hail, warriors of the twelve clans," he said in a strong voice.

"Hail, _fleimkepa_ ," many voices rang out from the darkness.

Titus took a breath and paused as the room became thick with the moment. "The horn has sounded, and the Commander has chosen. _Leksa_ _kom Trikru_ will ascend." The deep, sharp sound of drums rang out as Lexa and Titus walked, a circle of light moving through the darkness. Lexa saw the outlines of faces at the edge of the light. Ahead of her she saw a round stone table take shape. The drumming stopped when they reached its edge and a woman's voice, smooth and beautiful in song, took their place.

 _Yumi na teik  
_ _Won sonraun au?  
_ _Medo ste thonken  
_ _Medo drein au_

Titus' eyes pointed Lexa to a small step at the side of the table, and he took her hand, guiding her up the step and onto the table. Ringing the table were the symbols of the twelve clans. A pyramid shape was carved in the center. She kneeled on the pyramid, felt the solid, cold stone through the fabric. She closed her eyes and steadied her breath. Waves that all that flowed through that room rushed through her. The great energy of those invisible people. The firm but unforgiving stone beneath her. And that woman's voice pouring out like moonlight, making Lexa shiver with all she saw in that sound.

 _Pas skaikrasha  
_ _Klin tristraka  
_ _En houd don gon  
_ _Hosh trashsaka_

Four hooded figures moved into the ring of light. One carried Lexa's sword that she had fought with during the conclave. Another carried dried meat and hard bread. Another carried a healer's smallblade and roots. The last carried a handful of dirt. They set these at even intervals around the edge of the table.

 _Ai nou fir raun  
_ _Ai mana jomp in  
_ _Ai mana wan op  
_ _Ai don sin y'in_

The hooded figures receded behind the table. The strong scent of burning sage filled the room, musky and strong. Titus drew out from his robe a flat metal container, no bigger than his hand, painted red with an ominous skull. Lexa had known Titus for as long as a child can know someone, and she had never seen the container before. She hadn't felt afraid until she saw it. She closed her eyes. She had already gone through so much. There was nothing to do but let it all unfold.

 _Yumi na teik  
_ _Won sonraun au?  
_ _Jus drein jus daun  
_ _Ai medo drein au_

The last notes of the song hung in the air like honey hanging from a spoon. The darkness was full of sage and anticipation.

" _Leksa_ _kom Trikru_." Titus' voice echoed off the walls. "You were made _natblida_ , chosen among your people. According to the sacred rite of the conclave, the Commander has given you strength and wisdom above all others, and has chosen you to receive The Flame. Do you accept the wisdom of the Commanders, and do you willingly take The Flame?"

Lexa had practiced this with the other novitiates many times. But they were gone. She took a breath and with trained strength and steadiness projected her voice deep into the darkness. "I accept the wisdom of the Commanders, and I willingly take The Flame."

Titus nodded almost imperceptibly at her, and she tilted her head forward and moved her hair off her neck as she had practiced with the other _natblida_. No one had ever told her why. She watched as Titus reached for the healer's smallblade and wiped it with a cloth and set it down. Then he took the skull container and slowly slid it open, the muted, smooth rub of a metal hinge on a metal rail filling the silence. Titus picked up the small object inside, held it up between two fingers, and showed it to her. "The Flame," was all he said. He turned it over in his fingers so she could see all of it. It was rectangular with a rounded point at each end, and across its surface was a figure eight, the symbol of the Commander. Up close it looked faded, almost dull. Titus pulled it away and lifted it for the other eyes in the room. He set it back in the box and picked up the smallblade. He looked at Lexa gravely and gave her an almost imperceptible nod. She took another deep breath, slowly lowered her head, and closed her eyes. A wave of heat and pain sliced into the back of her neck. She breathed through it. _One is for the deimeika…_ She heard Titus' voice speak words in a language she didn't understand. " _Ascende superius_."

Suddenly, there was a bright, gouging pain blasting into the cut, like needles reaching into her spine. Lexa could no longer maintain the practiced composure and collapsed forward onto her hands. She suppressed the scream building in her throat and the nausea rolling through her as something seemed to dig deeper and deeper into her, until all went black and silent.

* * *

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	4. Polis

Lexa had never been so far away from her village. Everything was new. The sharp smell of a great, stagnant pond nearby. The glowing blue butterflies lighting up a dark part of the forest. The rush of a big river she couldn't see. Sometimes she'd close her eyes to pick out sounds she'd never heard before, but then she'd worry that she was missing out on seeing something incredible. She had loved her village, knew it like she knew her mother's voice. She knew it was time to head home for dinner from the way the sun cut through the tall trees. She knew the tiny chimes that called out when a breeze wandered through were the bells that hung from the healer's tent. Now the world was giving her a thousand new ways to know it, but she couldn't stop to explore. The warriors who took turns carrying her on horseback did not seem to be as enthralled with the forest as she was.

Even from the saddle, though, she loved the land. The land never tried to hide: the trees shined after a rain and mud clumped underfoot. When the summer got too hot, smaller plants withered. When the temperature dropped, still water froze.

The land made sense to Lexa in a way people didn't. When the travelers heard the grumble of some enormous animal in the trees, Tux cursed angrily at his horse and dug his heels into its haunches, driving it forward with a terrible lurch. Lexa, with him on the saddle, felt Tux's muscles tense and caught the scent of his sweat: fear. Her _nomi_ always smiled when she was frustrated. Titus kept close to Lexa, his glances full of warmth and protection, but there was a shadow in him that she didn't understand. Adults confused her. Their words never matched what the rest of them told her. But she learned that they didn't like when she pointed this out, so she usually tried to stay away from them altogether.

But now she was the only child among many adults, warriors whose primary ways of communicating were empty silence or wary anger. Except the woman Indra with the tattoos curving around one side of her face. Her silence was warm, full of both hope and heaviness. When she did speak, it was often in response to whatever Lexa had thought but not spoken. "That's a bullfrog," she'd say when Lexa's head turned toward a loud clicking sound. "They love these bogs." Lexa liked when she rode with her. Indra was a mystery, like a gift Lexa had to wait to unwrap.

* * *

Polis started as a trickle of traders on the road. A woman with dried fish in a basket slung over her shoulder. An old man pushing scrap metal in a small cart. Then it began to flow into a steady stream of different people, the traders along with warriors with heavy swords and spears strapped to their backs, their faces tattooed in sharp black lines like Indra's or masked in animal skulls. As they drew even closer to the city, a horde of children hovered around the road to take in the spectacle and hope for some traders' wares to come loose from their bundles.

Their eyes widened as the _Fleimkepa_ 's party approached. Warriors wore no uniforms or indications of rank, but these warriors rode horses, _gapa_ , and only the Commander's warriors rode horses. As the horses drew closer, the children saw that a child rode with them, and a child accompanying the _Fleimkepa_ could only mean one thing.

" _Natblida_!" they shouted as they ran alongside the group. "Show us your blood, _yongheda_!" Young Commander. Lexa got the sense they didn't mean it as a compliment. She shifted nervously in the saddle in front of Tux who hissed at the children. "Move on!" But they kept pace, staying just out of reach of the warriors' boots.

"I'll knock you down, _natblida_!" one of the bigger boys shouted, more to his friends than at Lexa. "Can you even hold a sword?" The group laughed and stared. Lexa didn't know what a sword had to do anything, so she stayed quiet. "She can't even speak!" the boy taunted.

Lexa swallowed and took a breath as she turned to look at him. His eyes were a mix of bright green and chestnut, beautiful, but they blinked as if asking a question when she held his glance. She tilted her head and smiled at him, the way she smiled at squirrels coming closer and closer. _You don't need to be afraid._ Suddenly, the boy's eyes darkened into a storm. The rest happened in a blink. The rock that appeared in his hand, the sharp pain in her knee, and the way Titus flew from his horse to pin the boy on the ground.

"You will respect those who bear her burden," Titus growled at him as he pushed his forearm into the boy's throat. Veins sprouted across the tattoos covering Titus' head, and his eyes narrowed to black slits. "You have no idea…" The boy's face turned red, then blue, and his eyes rolled back.

" _Fleimkepa_." Indra had quietly dismounted and stood behind Titus with her hand softly on his shoulder. "He's just a child."

Titus sucked in his breath and lifted his arm. The boy gasped and coughed as his friends pulled him away. Titus turned around and looked at Indra. "So is she," he said, walking towards Lexa. "Are you hurt?" He rolled up the loose woven pants she wore. No blood, but the skin just below her knee was darkening into a bruise. He lifted her foot, moved it up and down. "Does that hurt?" Lexa shook her head.

She'd been hit harder with the thick sticks during _bleirona_ training. She didn't train with the other children in the village. She had private lessons in a clearing deep into the woods. _So that no one knows how good you are_ , her _nomi_ said. Her mother had lied, Lexa now realized. She winced at the memory.

"That hurts?" she heard Titus ask distantly. Lexa shook her head again, not looking at Titus. "I'm not hurt." she said.

She had liked her training. The stick sword felt right in her hand. Since she was so small, she had to learn to move her feet even more than swing the sword. It was more like dancing than fighting. _Good, Lexa!_ the teacher would say as she spun away from a blow. _When can I train with the other kids?_ Lexa would always ask. _When you're ready_ , the teacher would always reply, never looking Lexa in the eye. Then Lexa would let it go. Until the next lesson.

* * *

The riders were silent as they continued into Polis, but the city grew more and more alive the further they went. The streets were a maze of tall pine trees and canvas tents and huts pieced together from metal sheets scavenged from the remains of the world after _praimfaya_. One after another, they rose up on either side of the road in walls alive with people and chickens and dogs and who knows what else.

The walls pushed in on Lexa. In the forest, everything was new, but there the smells and sights and sounds rose up slowly to meet her. In this place, every step was a barrage. The cries of unseen babies. The flash of sunlight on metal strips hanging from a tent, and the hollow tinkle they made when a breeze blew through them. The squawk of chickens dodging feet. The smell of roasting meat and the cook yelling towards them, " _Gonakru_! You must be hungry! Come! Try!" In the opening of one hut a man sat sewing what looked like a child's tunic. Another tent was lined with tables filled with knives and short swords. A stony-faced, stony-muscled woman in a headscarf sat at the back of the tent, her arms crossed as she kept an eye on the weapons. Children gathered in the gutters of the road, shouting gleefully and fighting with sticks.

Lexa had never seen so many people at once, and she knew there were many more she couldn't see. Their joy and sadness and boredom rose in her chest in indistinguishable waves as she moved from one hut to another tent and on and on. She watched each person go about their business and tried to imagine their life. _What did they eat for breakfast? Do they sleep on the ground?_

"What do you think of Polis, Lexa?" Titus had sidled up to her.

"It's...big." She couldn't think of any other word.

"The biggest city in the twelve clans," he said idly. That's not what she meant, but it didn't matter. He was just talking to fill space, like adults sometimes do. She never liked when they did that, so she stayed quiet.

As they rounded another corner of the maze, the tents gave way to a small grassy area where warriors were sparring and children were shooting twigs from homemade bows. The meadow sloped steeply so that the horizon opened up before them, revealing a city that filled a valley surrounded by hills and mountains. Lexa's eyes grew big, and she sucked in her breath. It was a _pramkapa_ , a great city that had been destroyed in _praimfaya_. Huge metal arms twisted painfully towards the sky, and blackened walls with eyes tilted precariously. Lexa's gaze, though, was drawn to the tallest thing she'd ever seen, a huge round pillar that rose far above even the tallest trees. It looked as though a giant had thrown boulders at it, and a tall flame burned at the top, like a candle.

Titus noticed her big eyes and smiled. "That's where the Commander lives, little _natblida_."

"How tall is it?" Lexa's eyes were drawn to the flame.

"Tall enough to see Azgeda from the top."

"Will we get to go to the top?" Lexa asked eagerly.

Titus felt his smile sigh a bit, as he finally got a glimpse of the little girl acting her age. "We're going there now. That's where all _natblida_ live."

"I get to live there?" She squealed, leaning forward in her saddle and squinting to look closer. Light danced in her green eyes. She looked over at Indra who nodded and smiled. When Indra smiled, it changed her whole body, like she had suddenly shrugged off something heavy.

The slope brought them down into the center of the city where the roads were wider but the tents and stalls were packed even closer together. Sometimes they passed tall stone houses, and when Lexa glanced inside she saw people laughing and spilling whatever was in their cups. As the rode on, the tower grew taller and taller until they were engulfed in its shadow. Finally they were right under it. Lexa looked up and flinched. She swore it was about to fall on her. But when she glanced up again, it was still in the same place.

Tux dismounted and then pulled Lexa off the horse and set her on her feet. She rubbed the back of her legs where they hurt from the ride.

"Come, _natblida_." Titus was almost inside. She ran to meet him, leaving the other warriors with the horses.

* * *

The ride to the top of the tower felt like a year to Lexa. The cart they rode in clicked and squeaked the entire ride up, and the small space became hotter every inch they travelled. She wondered if the air would smell different so far up, if she would be afraid.

Titus' voice cut into her thoughts. "I will go in first. Do not speak to the Commander unless he speaks to you." He droned on with other instructions, but Lexa returned to her thoughts. _Where in the tower will I live? How will we eat so far away from hunting forests? I'm hungry._ The cart suddenly jerked to a stop with a sharp click, and a knock came from the other side of the door. Titus knocked back, and the doors slid open. Titus stepped out with Lexa behind him.

On either side of the door, two warriors stood guard with spears. One had black lines tattooed across his brown face like wisps of hair blowing in the wind. The other, a woman, had her thick black hair pulled back in braids on top of her head. Lexa stared at patterns of half moons scarred into her skin down the sides of her face. The woman's eyes snapped at her, and she looked away.

As they stepped across a small hallway into a large chamber, Lexa saw dust floating in small shafts of light streaming in. Titus reached down without looking at her, stopping her. She waited at the edge of the room as he continued to walk in.

She took in a deep breath. _The air does smell different._ A twinge went through her as she felt many eyes on her. A small group of children and some teenagers sat cross-legged in a line on the floor staring at her, more curious than hostile.

"Welcome back, _Fleimkepa_ ," Lexa heard a voice say. She looked up and saw a man-or boy?-sitting on a great chair made of twisting tree branches. The chair was on a raised platform so that the he looked down on the rest of them. He was tall like a man, and he was wrapped in wiry muscle, but his face reminded Lexa of the boys who used to chase cats around her village.

"Thank you, _Heda_ ," Titus responded, bowing deeply.

"Is this our newest novitiate?" the young man asked, looking behind Titus at Lexa. His voice was was bright and warm.

"Yes, _Heda_. This is _Leksa kom Trikru_."

The young man beckoned her towards him with a wave of his hand. She walked in, stood next to Titus, and looked up at him. His face, like his voice, was bright and open, but she saw shadows behind his gray-brown eyes. He stood slowly. As he did, the group on the floor joined him and, much to her surprise, they all bowed deeply to her.

" _Monin, Leksa kom Trikru_ ," the man said when he rose. "I am _Mazo kom Yujleda_. And these," he looked at the group of kids, "are your new brothers and sisters."

Lexa instinctively returned the bow to both Mazo and the group of kids. Her heart started to pound as she suddenly realized that she was now home, in this place she'd never seen-that she would never again eat dinner with her _nomi_ or chase the sounds of chimes in her village. She bit her bottom lip and tried to think of something to say, but she didn't know what she was supposed to say to a Commander, to other _natblida_. The kids continued to look at her, but the pounding in her chest drowned out any awareness of them. She looked around the room, behind Mazo, and saw the sun streaking into the room through the cracks of red gauzy curtains that swayed a bit with a breeze she couldn't feel. There was something behind those curtains. And then she said the only thing she could think of.

"Can we go behind them?" she asked, pointing at the curtains.

A bright smile spread across Mazo's face. "Of course, Lexa. It is my favorite place." He turned to the other _natblida_. "You may go. I think it's time for dinner, isn't it _Fleimkepa_?" Titus lowered his head in a nod. "You'll have lots of time to get to know Lexa. _Gyon au_!" His smile was still wide as he watched them leave in a line with Titus in the lead. "Now, I wonder what's behind the curtain…" Mazo looked playfully at Lexa. He gestured with his head, _let's go see_. She stepped up onto the platform and around the big chair towards the curtains. "Are you ready?" She nodded eagerly. So he slowly drew the curtain back. She squinted as the sun poured in. Mazo motioned for her to walk through.

Her eyes had to adjust for a moment with the brightness, but as they did, she saw she stood on a ledge overlooking the whole world. Green rolling over hills and jutting up over sharp mountains. The sky just starting to turn orange and pink as the sun crawled towards the horizon. And the maze of Polis stretching even further than she thought into the forest toward a lake in the distance. She wondered how many people were down there, how many trees. She wondered how far away the sun was.

"What do you think?" Mazo asked as he looked out towards the sun.

"It's so...big."

"It's almost like you can feel all the people moving around down there, isn't it?" Mazo replied, still looking out with a thoughtful look on his face. Lexa liked him already. She stepped towards a gap in the balcony's broken barrier to get a better look.

" _Wochas, natblida_!" Mazo pulled her back from the edge, his eyes creased with worry. "That's a long way to fall." He dropped down to his knees to look straight into her eyes. "Here's your first lesson as a novitiate: you must take good care of yourself. Be safe. Be cautious. Be suspicious. For me. For all the Commanders before." He looked through the gap out at the city. "For all our people." His eyes had suddenly turned more gray, pushing the brown to the edges.

Lexa tilted her head in confusion. Mazo shook his head and smiled. Sadness hovered at the edges of his lips. "You will learn..." he said distantly. He shrugged his shoulders as if shaking himself out of some dark thought. "In the meantime, here is your second lesson: whenever I address you and we're in front of others, you must always say, 'yes, _Heda_.' Can you practice?"

"Yes, _Heda_ ," Lexa replied, still feeling confused. The light returned to Mazo's face as he threw his head back and laughed. The joyful sound hung in the air as they looked out on the sky turning from red to purple. Lexa looked out into the forest and wondered what her _nomi_ was doing.

"These are our people, Lexa." Mazo's voice, serious but still warm, interrupted her thoughts. "Every one of them." He looked out past the horizon and then slowly turned his eyes on Lexa. "Never forget that."

"Yes, _Heda_."

* * *

 _ **Thank you so much for reading! Please follow my story if you like what you saw, and feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts. I'm always open to suggestions for making my writing better.**_

 _ **As always, Trigedasleng is in italics, and translations can be found at trigedasleng dot info.**_


	5. Tagspiden

_Author's note: Overflowing gratitude to a-bit-of-madness for her beta efforts-her sharp eyes and kind ways._

* * *

"Lexa…" A voice beckoned her out of sleep, but there was no waking, only darkness. "Lexa, I'm here."

It was familiar but thick, as if moving through water.

"Don't open your eyes, little _natblida_. Rest." A man's voice, gentle and light, drew closer. The darkness grew warmer, comforting. "Stay here while you can. The world will have changed when you open your eyes."

 _Where are you?_ she asked him, though she didn't speak.

"I'm here, with you," the voice replied. "I always will be. We all will."

 _Who?_ she asked.

The darkness began to lift like fog, and a room slowly filled the space, settling around her like a dream. She kneeled before a short table, where burning candles and smoking sage were situated around small sketches of children, some her age, but several who were older, teenagers. Some smiling, some serious. She saw a hand that wasn't hers reach down, pick up each picture, and hold it to her chest. _"Ai koma yu op."_ She heard the voice whisper.

 _Mazo!_ She felt a smile, but she couldn't tell if it was hers, or her Commander's.

"I always knew it would be you," he said.

 _You chose me…_ she said. The hands cradled the sketch of a young girl, her wild hair poofing joyfully everywhere.

"I suppose I did, in a way," Mazo replied. "It wasn't the way I thought it would be."

The darkness returned, and a sudden sadness washed over her. _They're all gone, Mazo, my sisters and brothers. I'm alone._

There was silence, but she could feel him there.

"It was always going to be this way, Lexa," he finally said. "It was like this for all of us. _We honor those who fall by the sword, but follow the One who wields it best."_

She had heard the phrase over and over. The novitiates said it to one another before they sparred. The _wichen_ recited it when they tended to their wounds after. And the _fleimkepa_ used it to remind them to work hard every day. Lexa did not want to hear it now. What did her sword matter now? They were gone, many of them _because_ of that sword.

"We didn't choose you for your sword, Lexa," Mazo said, then he laughed almost sheepishly. "Well, not _just_ for your sword. Though I've never seen anyone fight like you, not at your age."

In life, Mazo had always tried to make heavy things lighter, but Lexa had always been a serious girl. _I'm alone_ , she said again, now feeling more empty than sad.

"I promise you will never be alone," Mazo's voice was soft. "Where you were once surrounded by novitiates you will now be surrounded by commanders. All of us. This is going to be hard, Lexa. But you don't have to do it on your own."

Lexa suddenly felt a low burning on her back, felt the sensation tugging her away from the Commander. and the room began to dissolve into darkness again.

 _Mazo?_ Something inside her reached for him frantically.

"I'm here, Lexa, I promise." His voice calmed her.

She tried to take in a deep breath but realized that she didn't know where her breath was. She tried to lift her hands to her face, but there was nothing-no muscles moving bones, moving fingertips to cheeks-just darkness. But then the burning on her back came again-no, more like a bee sting, many bee stings, all along her spine. She couldn't find her hands, but the pain, like a small candle, brought light and life to just that part of her. The light spread, pulling at her.

"Lexa, not yet!" Mazo's voice was distant. "I need you to remember something. I need you to remember these words: _Mens mea fiat mens tua_. Can you say them back to me?"

She didn't recognize the language. _Mens…_ The strange words were slippery in her mind. _I can't…_

" _Mens mea fiat mens tua_ ," Mazo prompted her again, repeating the words slowly.

 _Mens mea fiat mens tua_ , she repeated. The burning stings returned, stronger now, and the pain ebbed up and down her spine.

"Again," Mazo ordered, his voice drifting further and further away.

 _Mens mea fiat mens tua_.

" _Wich fleim in_ , Lexa," his voice had almost disappeared into the darkness. "We're here."

He was gone.

The darkness lifted from black to gray. She rubbed her fingers together, felt the soft skin of her fingertips press against each other. The pain now pulsed in her back, one sting coming steadily after another.

"No, seven circles," she heard Titus say.

She took a breath as she returned to her body. Stomach against stone. Face against something soft. Arms resting at her side. She moved her legs, felt the silky cloth of the black dress spill around them. She tried to lift her head, and pain shot through her neck. She gasped.

"Don't move, little _natblida_." Titus' voice was soft but urgent. "You're receiving the marks of the Commander."

"My neck," she said, her voice sandy and weak.

"It's the Flame, Lexa. The incision will take some time to heal."

She blinked her eyes, found them heavy with sleep and pain. She placed her hands flat against the stone and pushed herself up.

"Stop," Titus said, not to her.

She sat up slowly and felt the front of her dress hanging loosely over her chest, while the back fell open, exposing her spine. Titus rushed over and covered her with a cloak.. She looked over and saw one of the _wichen_ with a long bone needle in one hand and a bloody rag in the other. Her spine burned with slow, steady pain. The back of her neck throbbed. She reached back and brushed her hand over the incision, now held together with knots of stitches.

Titus kneeled down in front of her and put his hands on her upper arms, as if to hold her up. "It's part of the ritual, Lexa. The _wichen_ is painting your back to honor this important day." He looked towards the doors of the chamber. "But I'm glad you slept. There is still much to do this night. The chiefs wait for you to ascend."

"May I continue, Heda?" the _wichen_ asked.

Lexa took a deep breath. Her stomach turned. She looked at Titus. "May I have some food?" She hadn't eaten since before the conclave and wasn't sure how much longer she could go without.

Titus shook his head and looked down. "I'm sorry, Lexa. Not until after the _Tagspiden_. Then you will be able to have whatever you want. _Heda_." He tacked on the last word as if to remind her.

Lexa sighed and closed her eyes.

" _Heda_?" the _wichen_ asked.

Lexa nodded. "You may continue," she said as she lied back down on the stone table. The burning stings returned, one quickly after another. She closed her eyes but could not find sleep again.

* * *

The sun had gone down hours ago. When the _wichen_ finished the markings, Lexa didn't know if it was closer to sundown or sunrise. She knew she was tired, though. She knew that her back and neck ached from the new marks she bore, along with the soreness and fatigue of yesterday's combat. _Was that only yesterday?_ It had all happened so quickly. Mazo, the conclave, the Flame.

She had been taught the ritual of the Flame. She knew about the marks of the Commander. She had fought in battles and known the weariness of war. But this was a different exhaustion, one that left her numb, empty. It turned the people around her into ghosts, her world into shadow. Or maybe that was just the torch lights flickering on the walls.

Lexa sat quietly, her legs hanging over the edge of the stone table, as the _wichen_ rubbed a sticky balm over the new markings on her skin and covered it with a bandage. When the _wichen_ left, Lexa closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, hoping to fill the emptiness with some sort of life. Just two long breaths in, two more _wichen_ , both women, came in, their arms full.

" _Heda_ , we are to prepare you for the _Tagspiden_ ," one of them said.

She looked down. _When will this be over?_ Her stomach lurched. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Since she could remember, she had always been able to keep her feelings away from others, but this exhaustion had worn her thin. The mature veneer was wearing off, and the tired twelve year-old threatened to erupt. She took a long breath in.

 _One is for the_ deimeika _, that gives us light._

The tears retreated. She felt the drum of her heart slow down.

 _Two is for these ears that can hear the morning birds._

She closed her eyes and reached up to touch her ears. She drew in another slow breath.

 _Three is for..._

She bit her lips and opened her eyes. The _wichen_ stood there waiting, respectfully diverting their eyes. She looked each of them in the eyes.

"Let's get on with it then," she said.

* * *

"Hail, warriors of the twelve clans!" Titus greeted the chiefs as the doors to the chamber opened for the second time that night. Lexa stood behind him, hidden in the darkness.

"Hail, _Fleimkepa_ ," the chiefs answered. They sounded tired.

Titus turned towards Lexa and nodded. As she stepped into the chamber, she felt the air change around her. The chiefs quickly sat up and stared as she made her way across the room. The wichen had switched out the rich, lush dress for rough black and metal. A black overcoat went down to her knees and was locked around her body with a metal corset. It was lined with fur and latched in the front with thick leather straps. Strong black boots reached up to her knees, and metal-studded fingerless gloves glistened in the torch light. Her long brown hair hung in a maze of small braids behind her, pulled back to reveal her face painted in a black streak over her eyes, dripping like blood down her cheeks. The battle paint Anya had given her.

Lexa looked around at the chiefs, her green eyes shining even brighter through the black mask. The chiefs had arrived for the conclave only a few days ago, some from far away. Many brought with them hopes that the _natblida_ from their clan would emerge victorious. The Flame was the only thing that could gather these men and women, some who had hated each other for generations, into the same place. Outside of this tower, this moment, some of them were at war, their armies paused in a mandatory ceasefire in distant forests and fields. The Flame was the only thing that kept some of these chiefs from killing each other, the only thing they all held sacred.

Lexa continued her walk across the chamber. The stone table had been moved and Mazo's chair-the commander's chair-sat empty on its raised platform. Lexa let a breath out as she felt her chest relax. She knew this room, had been in it a hundred times before. The only difference was that a small stool had been placed just to the left of the tall chair. As she walked up the few stairs, a picture flashed across her mind. Mazo-younger than she had ever known him, a large man with a boy's face-sat on the stool, his back erect but his eyes tired. She thought she saw him smile at her, but the picture dissolved too quickly to really know.

She sat on the stool. The metal corset forced her to sit upright. Her back felt wet and itchy, but she blinked off the discomfort.

"Warriors," Titus said. "It has been a long day and a long night." Titus shook his head, an unspoken thought flashing across his eyes. "Lexa _kom Trikru_ has taken The Flame. She must now pass the final test."

As Titus spoke, Lexa felt a wave of steely anger flow towards her. When she looked up to find its source, she saw the lips of Nia _kom Azgeda_ drawn into a thin smirk- a dare. When Lexa won the conclave, the Ice Queen had stormed out and almost refused to take part in the rituals. But to refuse meant that the other clans would never again acknowledge a _natblida_ from Azgeda. The Flame would never pass to her people. Nia returned, but she hadn't spoken a word since.

"Many of you have been part of the _Tagspiden_ ," Titus said to the chiefs. "You know that there are no instructions, just this book." Titus held up a ragged brown book with a figure eight carved into its cover. "Lexa will speak, and I will verify." He walked to where the chiefs sat and took a chair among them. "Noli _kom Podakru_ -" he bowed his head towards the man to his left, "-and Nia _kom Azgeda_ -" another bow towards the Ice Queen "-will oversee." Titus opened the book to a page marked by a leather strap and set it on his lap. Then he looked at Lexa with serious eyes. " _Wich fleim in,_ Lexa."

She felt her face squint in sudden confusion. _Is that all?_ What was she supposed to do? What was in the book? She looked down at her fierce clothes and felt smaller than she ever had. Her fingernails dug into her hands as she fought the desire to tear off the long coat with its tight metal cage and throw it on the floor, to run out of the chamber doors and down all 50 flights of stairs until she was free. She closed her eyes. From nowhere, an image of her _nomi_ rose in her mind, her long black hair in braids just like hers, a small, silent smile creeping across her face. Lexa shivered. She hadn't thought about her mother in a long time, not since her first battle. She opened her eyes to see Miah, the chief from _Louwoda Kliron Kru_ , looking intently at her. She had soft eyes, warm and encouraging.

Lexa took a deep breath down her spine. When she let it out, her shoulders relaxed. _It's not a trick_ , she told herself. _You know what to do_. She tapped her foot on the tiled floor.

The chiefs stared. Nia waited. Lexa felt her jaw clench.

 _Wich fleim in,_ Lexa _._

She looked up at the tall chair next to her and suddenly felt dumb. _You know what to do._

She closed her eyes, reached back and rubbed the stitches on her neck, and said quietly, " _Mens mea fiat mens tua_." There was a flash behind her eyes, and a woman's distant scream. " _Mens mea fiat mens tua_ ," Lexa said again, louder. A picture appeared in the darkness. A woman. Brown eyes. Shrieking wildly, desperately. Lexa felt a burning at her feet. Sharp pain. Flames licked at the woman's feet. Lexa jerked, trying to get away, but she couldn't move. She looked in the woman's eyes, and the woman became quiet, looking intently back.

Lexa opened her eyes. "Becca Pramheda," she said, though she didn't know where the words came from. "They burned her alive."

Noli and Nia looked down at the book, but Titus kept his eyes steadily on her, determined. He nodded very slightly. _Keep going._

Lexa closed her eyes again. The image came more quickly this time. Blood-spattered snow and the clangs and cries of war. A woman, short with powerful blue eyes and clothes that Lexa didn't recognize, fought three others dressed similarly but in different colors. The woman moved fast, beautifully, almost dancing with her sword. She spun, cutting a huge man across the face then crouched and plunged her sword into the belly of another man. Out of nowhere, an arrow hit her just below her collar bone. Lexa gasped as the pain struck. The woman, quickly pulling the sword out of the man, then spun again, cutting the throat of her third enemy. Another arrow plunged into her chest, just below her heart. Lexa jerked and tasted blood. The woman fell to her knees and looked up at Lexa with a battle-crazed smile.

Lexa looked up at the chiefs. "Elora. Of the north," she said, looking at Nia. "Two arrows. There was a battle."

Nia's eyes were shining.

"She was beautiful." Lexa felt her face burning. _Why did I say that?_ Nia smiled at her grimly.

She met every commander, looked each in the eye and watched them die. Assassinated. Overthrown. Defeated in battle. Betrayed. And-just once-overcome by illness. She spoke aloud each of their names and their deaths. Finally, she saw Mazo again. As his life left him, his eyes smiled at her. She smiled as she spoke his name. _I miss you._

"It is done," she heard Titus speak. As Lexa opened her eyes, she saw dull, gray light reflecting off the chamber walls. The sun was rising through a wall of clouds. Her back ached and itched. Her hands shook. She looked around. The chiefs squirmed, stiff, with shadows under their eyes.

"Stand up, Lexa _kom Trikru_." Titus walked to her with the book in hand. A _wichen_ who had been standing in the shadows took the book and handed the _fleimkepa_ a long, red sash. The _wichen_ bowed and disappeared with the book. Lexa stood up slowly, not sure if her feet would hold her. Her heavy black clothes pulled at her, but she managed to stand.

The sash was anchored to an enormous shoulder piece. Titus set it on her left shoulder. It sat massive on her small body and she stepped back with the weight of it. Titus gently buckled the piece in place so that the sash flowed down her back, spilling onto the floor behind her. She closed her eyes. _I am the Commander._

Titus looked around the room and said in a loud, strong voice, "Rise for your commander!"

The chiefs stood and Lexa looked around. Miah smiled softly. Nia's face was stone. Noli could barely keep his eyes open. Lexa nodded her head as she had seen Mazo do a hundred times before. All of the chiefs, even Nia, dropped to a knee and bowed their heads, saying, " _Heda_."

Suddenly a great noise filled the chamber from outside. Without thinking, Lexa rushed out to the balcony to look down. The army of Polis was in formation below. They had stood there all night waiting for the new Commander to ascend. And now they cheered. There would be much drinking and many fights that day.

Titus appeared at her side. "The fire has been lit," he said, his eyes moving towards the top of the tower. Then he got down on one knee and bowed his head. "The Commander has ascended."

The sky grew brighter. Cheers of " _Heda! Heda! Heda!_ " rose up from the warriors below.

Lexa looked down at Titus bowed before her and ran her hand over the tattoos that crowned his head. He looked up at her.

"I'd like to go to sleep now," Lexa said, looking out at the sky.

A warm smile broke out over Titus' face, and he laughed.

* * *

 _I won't lie. I love reviews (who doesn't?). I love constructive criticism (no, really) and I love hearing what you loved. If you have thoughts, please let me know. Thanks for reading!_


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